


Play Along

by Kelly



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Plug, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Era, bar pickup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelly/pseuds/Kelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wasn't expecting the gorgeous brunette (in ridiculously tight jeans) to show up at the bar and ruin what he had planned for the evening. But things aren't exactly as they say, and the night is hardly ruined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday [Nancy](http://eriks.co.vu/)! Visit me on [tumblr](http://almostcanon.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Translation now available in [Chinese](http://nightmare7294.livejournal.com/1620.html).

Steve wasn’t a smoker, but the haze saturating the air curled its claws into his clothes and hair. He’d reek later, but that was nothing new. The beer in front of him was half gone, his soft, brown leather jacket scuffing against the table edge. Greg on his right, Monte on his left. Their beers were significantly lower, chatting in low voices as Steve scanned the bar.

It was a place for the scum of the earth. None of the stools were sturdy anymore (most had one, if not two leg caps missing, causing them to rock), the counters were sticky, the air muggy and thick, and the paint peeling from years of neglect. There was a draft catching Steve’s short, greasy hair every minute or two, tousling it.

Steve picked up his glass to take a drink, gaze wandering, and he promptly choked as he laid eyes on the brunette at the bar. The man wasn’t sitting, instead leaning with his forearms against the grimy counter. It showed off a view of his ass, perfectly shaped in his dark, tight jeans. He was talking to the bartender, something flirtatious about the way he’d tilt his head, but Steve couldn’t see his face.

He had definitely been staring for a good thirty seconds when Greg nudged him, startling Steve from the daze. “What? Sorry,” he said immediately, tone taking on a gruff edge.

Greg just smirked. “Didn’t say nothin’, man. You lookin’ for tail?”

“Me? No. No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Monte egged him on, giving a lascivious grin. “Nobody’s gonna look twice if you fuck a fairy. With an ass like that and his hair all long, he looks enough like a girl from behind.”

Steve swallowed thickly. His gaze shifted back over to the bar where the brunette had slid onto an unsteady barstool. Steve’s gaze lingered on the tattoo covering his left arm, something slate grey, silver and black. It looked like armored plates, but in the poor lighting and haze, Steve couldn’t see the details from across the room.

Greg smacked down Steve’s glass in front of him. “Liquid courage,” he announced, and Steve forced a smile.

He picked up the glass, taking two gulps before putting it down gingerly. “Okay, wish me luck,” he said, trying not to grimace. There were some hoots from Greg and Monte, and Steve slid off his stool, taking a breath of stale air before crossing the room.

Strategically he sat one stool away, sliding into place at the bar. He pretended to try to flag the bartender, who was on the other side and waved at him to hold on. The brunette had his elbows on the counter – and he must regret that, because Steve can see the half dried, sticky alcohol everywhere. But the man gave no indication of being uncomfortable, instead seeming perfectly in his element, glancing sidelong at Steve. Blue eyes with frankly illegally long eyelashes slid over him, lingering on his shoulders, and then his lap. Steve’s ears were turning pink.

“Hey,” the brunette said, the corner of his lips twitching up. There was something in his voice, coy but very pleased with himself.

“Hey,” Steve replied, sounding forced.

“You come here often?” The man asked , lifting an quizzical eyebrow. He gave Steve a flirtatious head tilt, and Steve couldn’t help but notice that his lips were parted and wet.

Steve exhaled a gusty breath, feeling like someone was strangling him. “ _Bucky_ ,” he hissed.

“Quiet,” Bucky replied, somewhat sharply. He slid one seat over so he was beside Steve, who was just about to say something when the bartender finally showed up and put a halt to any real conversation.

Steve squeaked out a drink order, something far too high in alcohol content for the job he was doing, but suddenly alertness and professionalism were the last of his concern. Bucky’s hand – the one beautifully decorated to look like plates and bolts – had slid onto his leg. Bucky was rubbing at the inseam of his jeans, and Steve knew that if he blushed any harder, he was going to catch fire.

They both watched the bartender make Steve’s drink, and Bucky leaned in so his lips were right against Steve’s ear. “Play along with me,” he whispered, using his “come hither” voice.

Steve had to physically repress a shiver. “Working,” he whispered back. The bartender set his drink on a napkin and blessedly left for the other side of the bar. Steve swallowed a gulp of it before saying, “I told you I would be done by Thursday.” His hand covered Bucky’s, his thumb sliding over the only piece of _actual_ metal on the man’s skin, a silver band around the third finger.

“I hate when you go undercover,” Bucky muttered, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear, then lower to his neck.

Steve impulsively glanced back at the table housing Greg and Monte, but luckily they didn’t seem overly interested in analyzing Steve’s bar pickup. Maybe this would help his cover – most of the guys would find it suspicious if he didn’t have a hookup at least _once_.

“It’s not safe for you to be here,” Steve whispered, concern lacing his tone.

“No one’s looked twice at me – except you,” Bucky murmured. He wasn’t even pretending that he wasn’t kissing Steve’s neck now, his hand rubbing the front of his jeans. “It’s so sexy when you catch bad guys,” he said, grinning into Steve’s skin.

“I haven’t caught them yet,” Steve said, somewhat breathlessly. “Which is why it isn’t safe for you to be here.”

“I won’t blow your cover, Cap,” Bucky said, and Steve immediately shushed him, praying no one heard him. The last thing he needed was for someone to realize he was a cop. “Relax – these things make you so tense.” More rubbing ensued, and Steve had to bite back a moan. His pants were definitely too tight now.

“How did you even know where I was,” he hissed through his teeth, unable to stop himself from gripping Bucky’s leg in return.

“I asked Natasha,” he said lightly.

“She’s not supposed to give out that info!” Steve said, as quietly but as forcefully as possible.

Bucky was unfazed. “I promised to give her a new back tattoo free of charge – besides, she wouldn’t have done it if she thought either of us would be in danger by it. Now shut up and play bar hookup with me.” Bucky gave the front of his pants a squeeze that had Steve gripping the counter and swallowing back a moan.

Steve didn’t even think, leaning over and kissing Bucky firmly and desperately on the lips. Bucky didn’t seem to have been expecting that because he gasped, hand moving to grip Steve’s hair. He pulled back after only a moment, the front of coyness gone, leaving only unadulterated desire. “Fuck me in the bathroom.”

Steve was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Bucky by the wrist and all but dragging him into the men’s restroom. The door lock gave a quiet _shick_ under Steve’s hand. They banged their way into the only stall, kissing hazardously as Bucky made quick work of the button and zip on Steve’s jeans. His hand was down Steve’s pants a moment later, palming him as Steve pushed him against the stall wall, groaning at the contact. Bucky knew how uncoordinated Steve was during sex, so he quickly withdrew his hand to undo his own jeans and start to shimmy them down.

“God, I missed you,” Steve said into his neck, sucking a mark just below his pulse point. “Kept thinking about you – our bed, a hot shower, breakfast together at the table—”

“What a horrible thing to remember; you always burn the eggs,” Bucky said with a sly grin.

“Just that one time. You make the eggs, I’ll make the coffee,” Steve amended, helping pull Bucky’s pants down further before Bucky spun, planting his hands on the wall above the toilet, his skinny jeans caught around his thighs.

Steve’s breath caught at the sight before him. “Jesus _Christ_ , Buck. Did you—?”

“I came prepared,” Bucky said, gasping as Steve pressed on the base of the plug seated deep in his ass.

“And you always say I’m the Boy Scout,” Steve shot back, a smile in his voice.

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me – now hurry the fuck up, I’m getting six STIs just by standing here.”

Steve grasped the base of the plug, easing it back. Bucky gave a full body shudder, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. “Christ’s sake, do you not understand what _hurry_ —” Bucky cut off with a strangled sound as Steve thrust straight in, causing his body to jerk and then shudder at the new intrusion.

“Was that too—”

“If you say one more word that isn’t about how much you love my ass or my lips or my fucking _great personality_ , I will punch your pretty mouth.”

Steve’s hips bucked in response. “God, you’re always so _threatening_ ,” he complimented.

“Better,” Bucky replied, a little breathless.

“You waltz in here like you own the place,” Steve continued, his voice taking on a husky edge that made Bucky shiver. They’d found a rhythm now, something familiar but never got old, the slide easy and quick. “I could’ve come in my pants just looking at you in those jeans.”

“Found ‘em in the back of the closet under your stupid record player.”

Steve gave a quick thrust, Bucky letting out a cry and almost falling forward when Steve hit his prostate – but Steve was quick to loop and arm around his waist, continuing to thrust firmly into that spot. “It’s not… _stupid_ ,” Steve punctuated with another thrust.

“It’s broken…you…asshole,” Bucky said, although the fire was out of his words. He sounded breathy, his head lulling down. His cock was leaking, a string of precum dripping from the tip onto the grimy floor. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Been thinking about…this… _you_ …for three weeks, Steve.”

Steve kissed at Bucky’s shoulder through his shirt. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Don’t, nngh,” Bucky arched a little, “Don’t take anymore…of these assignments. Let someone…someone else catch the mob bosses and…and bust trafficking rings.”

Steve nuzzled the back of Bucky’s neck where his hair was pulled off the nape into a loose ponytail. “Okay,” he whispered, his left hand covering Bucky’s on the wall. His own ring was missing, gone for the length of the assignment, but he stroked Bucky’s. His hips slowed, thrusts lengthening.

“Okay?” Bucky repeated after a delay of several thrusts, sounding dazed.

“Been thinking about…important stuff.”

“Important stuff?” Bucky wasn’t well fucked enough not to snort at that.

“Yes,” Steve said emphatically, Bucky dissolving into another low groan as Steve started to stroke him in opposite time to the firm thrusts. But Steve was a surprisingly good multitasker because he continued, “I’ve been doing these assignments so long…I’m losing sight of what’s important.”

“And what’s important?” Bucky asked breathlessly.

“You.” They both paused at that, even though each had known it was the answer. Bucky shifted forward, Steve’s length sliding out of him before he turned around. His arms wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Steve grabbed the back of Bucky’s thigh just as Bucky did a little hop up to wrap his legs around Steve’s hips. Bucky was by no means a small man, but having him pressed against the wall of the bathroom stall helped keep them both upright. With a little maneuvering, Bucky sunk back down onto Steve’s cock, shuddering as their bodies became flush.

“Ah,” he breathed in Steve’s mouth, hands carding through his hair. “You’re a sap,” he said, but not without affection.

“You love that about me,” Steve smiled just a little, their mouths touching between each breath.

“It may have been among the reasons I married you,” Bucky licked his lips before kissing Steve deeply.

They were both too close to make it last much longer. They were touch starved from weeks apart, and the emotional charge of their words left them both clingy and edged with desperation. Steve’s thrusts were quick and sharp, Bucky jerking himself off, his nails digging into Steve’s shoulder. It was Bucky who came first, his whole body seizing with a groan, his head clunking back against the wall. His body contracted around Steve’s in his pleasure, sending his partner tumbling over the edge moments later.

They stayed like that for several long moments, both panting loudly. Bucky’s fingers were carding through the hair at the base of Steve’s neck, Steve’s head against his shoulder. “I love you,” Steve whispered.

Bucky smiled faintly. “Such a sap,” he kissed Steve’s temple before whispering, “I love you too.”

They kissed one more time before reluctantly separating. Steve had cum on his shirt which was definitely not going to be easy to hide. Bucky was much better off – he just had to wiggle his pants back up, which made Steve smile.

Then Bucky noticed the anal plug he’d so thoughtfully worn, rolling on the floor. He sent Steve a scandalized look. “What was I supposed to do with it?” Steve asked helplessly.

Bucky made a face. “I suppose there isn’t any surface in here that would have been more sanitary. Ugh, I’m never touching that thing again. I’ll buy a new one.” He leaned in to kiss Steve softly. “Thursday?”

“Thursday,” he agreed, kissing him one more time.

Luckily there was no line outside the bathroom; the men had just been using the women’s. This probably happened far too regularly at a place like this. The little hallway gave them one last moment together, but they didn’t dare kiss. Bucky just squeezed Steve’s wrist. “Catch bad guys,” he whispered.

Steve nodded, swallowing. “I’ll be home soon.”

Bucky took the back door out of the bar, and Steve only took a moment to collect himself before heading back to the table with Greg and Monte. Someone had pilfered Steve’s drink from its glass, but he didn’t care. He was flying too high to care.

Monte took a drag on his cigarette, blowing it out before grinning at Steve. “You look better by a mile.” Greg laughed at that, giving Steve a slap on the back.

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “It’s going to be a good week.” Greg and Monte would be arrested by Thursday, and then Steve was going home.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve’s hair was still damp, combed back out of his face. He was wearing deodorant, new underwear, and fresh socks. He hadn’t felt this clean in almost a month. His uniform, the creases softened from so long on its hanger, fit nicely on his frame. He felt good as he strolled out of the locker room at the 79th Precinct, pausing mid-step as he spotted Bucky. He was talking to Becker at the front desk, and had clearly just arrived.

“Buck!” Steve shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the office. It was always news when someone came back from an undercover assignment, and the New York Police Department loved its gossip. They were probably eating it up when Bucky darted around the counter into the main office, pulling Steve into a tight hug which was quickly returned. “What’re you doing here? I just got back,” Steve muttered, holding Bucky tighter.

“Sam called me. Said you got shot,” Bucky muttered, pulling back and searching Steve’s face, then the rest of his frame.

Steve’s heart jumped at the concern he detected in Bucky’s expression. “Vest caught it, I’m fine.” He took Bucky’s hand, moving it to the tender spot between his fifth and sixth rib.

“He said you…that everything was okay,” Bucky murmured, his fingers curling against the front of Steve’s uniform over that spot. “I just thought, since you were back…I would come see you.”

Impulsively Steve leaned in, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s arms were around his waist in an instant, holding him close as their mouths slotted together. There were some whoops and hollers from the desks, someone shouting, “Get a room!”

“We have a house!” Bucky shot back, and showed them the middle finger of his left hand.

Steve started laughing, blushing, and he covered Bucky’s hand with his own to lower it. “You’re in a police station,” he reminded him, although he was grinning too wide.

“Yeah, well, fuck the police,” Bucky said back, smirking.

“Maybe just one in particular?” Steve replied lowly with a slight smile.

“I’ll consider it,” Bucky said cheekily.

“Steve, Bucky!” Sam drew their attention, clasping Steve on the shoulder before doing some sort of hand bump thing with Bucky that Steve didn’t quite understand. “Good to see you Bucky, drinks on Friday?”

“Yeah, we’re still on. You’re buying because you let Steve get shot,” he glowered.

Sam continued toward the other side of the precinct, walking backward so he could keep talking. He held out his arms, “Oh, come on man! He throws himself in front of bullets, I can’t be held responsible.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Push him out of the way next time.”

“It’s not like I can fly across the room,” Sam laughed. He gave them a cheeky salute – nearly running into Natasha, who neatly sidestepped him.

“Better watch yourself, Wilson,” she said with a faint smirk. Sam disappeared around the corner as she handed Steve a stack of papers. He had mostly disengaged from Bucky by now, although he was now holding his hand. He took the papers, making a face. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Natasha continued. “Injured in the line of duty – fill out the form. You’re off for the next four days. Give me your report on Castle and Jameson in the next 48 hours.”

“Yeah, will do,” Steve said with a tired smile. It had been an exhausting month, but nothing could bring him down now.

“You two should get out of here,” Natasha said with a rare smile. “Don’t want—” She cut off as the chief, Nick Fury, stuck his head out of his office and yelled, “Rogers!” Natasha gave a rueful smile. “Too late.” She patted Steve on the back. “Good luck. See you Bucky.”

“Bye Nat, call me about the tattoo,” Bucky said, although he looked a little peeved that he was now losing Steve – at least for a little while. He gave him a kiss. “I’ll go home and make dinner,” he said quietly.

“Barnes!” came a secondary shout from Fury’s office. “You get in here too.”

They shared a look before going to the chief’s office, Steve in his pressed uniform and Bucky in skinny jeans and a wife beater.

Fury was sitting behind his desk by the time they got there, but he stood to shake Steve’s hand, then Bucky’s. “Rogers, it’s good to have you back at the precinct. Barnes, good to see you again.”

“Yeah, likewise,” Bucky said, furrowing his brows a little. He glanced sidelong at Steve, clearly wondering, ‘What am I doing here?’

“Wilson reported that you were shot during the takedown,” he addressed Steve, folding his hands on the desk. “You’re doing alright now?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Steve replied, taking a breath. “I’m actually glad you called me in here. I wanted to talk to you.” He glanced at Bucky, who gave a small, encouraging smile.

“I think I’ll cut you off there,” Fury said, and both their gazes snapped back to the chief. “I’m not stupid,” he added blandly. “You don’t want to take undercover assignments anymore. I can’t say I blame you – it takes a special person. But here’s the thing, I think you are the right person for the job.”

“That’s very flattering sir, but I think I’m ready for something a little more…nine to five.”

“That’s why I’d like Barnes to go undercover with you,” Fury said, his face completely impassive.

Bucky laughed outright. Both Steve and Fury looked at him, concerned and unimpressed respectively. Bucky paused. “Oh wait, were you serious? Maybe things are a little blurry with just the one eye, but I’m not a cop.”

Fury took a breath. “Barnes, you are uniquely positioned. You are very personable, and you don’t have the aura of a police officer.”

Bucky snorted. “That’s because I’m _not_ a police officer.”

“Listen this is…a little crazy,” Steve finally spoke up. “I don’t even think this is legal.”

Fury ignored him, flipping open a folder. “I have your scores from the shooting range, Barnes, they’re better than some of our men who just graduated the academy. You know how to shoot.”

“Yeah, because I’m married to a cop,” he said, frowning.

“You two work seamlessly together, and I believe you would be an asset on undercover missions.” He looked at Steve. “I know about the bar.”

Steve looked stricken, his face heating up. “I’m sorry sir, that was completely unprofessional. I’ll do a report—”

“That encounter,” Fury interrupted, “helped deepen your cover. You became more believable in your position amongst Castle’s men – it appeared natural, and helped us bring in two more of his crew than you would have gotten otherwise. You also finished a day earlier than expected.”

Both men were silent, looking at their laps.

“I’m not asking you to become a cop, Barnes, but don’t misunderstand me. What I’m asking you to do is dangerous work. You would be something of an informant – trained, but all of your work would be with Rogers.”

Bucky hesitated. “So I’d just…go undercover with him.”

“I think it would be less emotionally draining if you had support within the cover,” Fury addressed Steve. “It would allow you to take longer assignments.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Steve said, glancing at Bucky. “It’s dangerous stuff. I don’t want you doing that.”

“But you like your job,” Bucky said, wavering a little. “I could do it, Steve.”

“Of course you could do it,” Steve said a little helplessly. “But today I got shot – we did everything right, and I got shot. What if that happens to you? What if it’s somewhere the vest doesn’t cover, what am I supposed to do then?”

They lock gazes, silence falling for a long moment.

“It’s not something I need an immediate answer on,” Fury said tactfully. “Rogers, you have four days leave. Get us those reports when it’s convenient.”

Steve just nodded, feeling a little dazed. He stood when Bucky did, and Bucky’s hand slid into his.

“Let’s go home,” Bucky said, his lips turned down in the way that always meant he was thinking.

They left the police station, only accosted three more times with well wishes for Steve and announcements that it was good to see him back in the office. Bucky’s bike was parked (illegally) at the curb in front of the station. He’d probably left it there in a hurry.

“One of these days they’re going to ticket you,” Steve said with a faint smile, accepting his helmet from Bucky and buckling it on.

Bucky snorted, fastening his own helmet. “I dare them to. I have connections in the police department, didn’t you hear?”

“Connections, you say?” Steve smirked, climbing on behind Bucky. The banter was good, easy. Better than talking about the cloud hanging over them.

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Bucky replied, grinning over his shoulder before snapping down his visor. The bike purred to life beneath them, and Bucky pulled out smoothly into traffic. The whipping wind prevented any conversation as they wound through the Brooklyn streets.

When they pulled up to the brownstone Bucky parked the bike, and Steve got his papers out of the compartment before they went inside.

They were quiet up the walk, Bucky unlocking the door and flipped on the lights. As soon as Steve shut the door Bucky’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered after a moment of just kissing, his eyes closed, breathing Bucky in. “We need to talk about…”

“Shh,” Bucky murmured, and his hands moved down to start untucking Steve’s uniform shirt. “We’re not going to talk about it now.” His fingers loosened Steve’s tie before undoing it, leaving it on a hook by the door. He slowly worked his way down the buttons of his shirt, kissing Steve’s smooth, freshly shaven jaw. “Let me see first.”

Steve took a breath, sliding out of his shirt before tugging off the undershirt beneath it, leaving him naked from the waist up.

Bucky pulled back enough to see Steve’s chest, his fingers skimming around the area of black and purple. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the ugly bruise.

Steve exhaled gustily. “Bucky, I don’t want you to—”

Bucky kissed him to shut him up, a little firmer this time, edged with something desperate. When he pulled back Steve chased his lips, several more kisses pressed against moist lips before they rested their foreheads together, breathing each other’s air. “Have you eaten since you got in?” Bucky asked finally.

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head minutely.

“I’ll make you something.”

“I don’t want you to make me something.” Steve kissed him again, slow and firm and devastating.

Bucky’s fingers slid up, twisting into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips parted to allow Steve’s tongue entrance, emitting a moan that was just this side of wrecked. Steve was half naked and alive in their hallway, kissing him like his life depended on it. Bucky needed nothing else.

On a break to raggedly draw in air, Steve divested Bucky of his tank top. His hands slid over the muscles of Bucky’s abdomen, ending on his hips, his thumbs pressing into that little space inside his hipbones. Ink in various shades and patterns decorated Bucky’s chest, many of the designs familiar because Steve drew them himself.

When Steve’s grip tightened a fraction Bucky made a quiet sound, one that Steve was very interested in eliciting again. Then Bucky said, “If we call for pizza then it’ll be here when we’re done.”

Steve snorted. “I am not having sex with you in 30 minutes or less.”

Bucky laughed, another sound that Steve couldn’t get enough of. “You need to eat.”

“I’ll suck you off,” Steve compromised.

“It is a good source of protein.”

“Why are you always so chatty when I want to get into your pants?” Steve asked, trying to sound frustrated but ending up laughing instead. He quickly unfastened Bucky’s jeans, starting to peel them down his hips.

Bucky grinned. “We have some of our best conversations during sex.” He kissed Steve again, groaning as Steve pulled his length out of the tight jeans and started to stroke him.

“We do,” Steve chuckled, kissing down Bucky’s neck while his husband’s breath hitched when he swiped his thumb over his erection’s head. “Did you work today?”

“I colored a sleeve – I wasn’t talking about _that_ kind of conversation,” Bucky huffed.

Steve laughed, kissing Bucky again. It was slow, wet, and dirty as their tongues slid together. He continued to stroke Bucky’s thickening erection.

Bucky made a noise against Steve’s lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Mm,” was Steve’s only answer. Then he was down on his knees, Bucky’s back hitting the hallway wall. How many times they’d had sex here, or on the stairs, too needy to make it all the way to the bedroom. Steve leaned forward, kissing Bucky’s hipbones.

Bucky shuddered out a breath, his fingers sliding into Steve’s hair. “Tease.”

Steve took Bucky in hand, licking a stripe up his length. “How about now?”

Bucky’s head clunked back against the wall with a moan. “Better,” he breathed, carding his fingers through Steve’s short locks. Warm heat finally engulfed him and he shivered, looking down to watch Steve take him into his mouth.

There was a balance of suction and pull, perfected from far too many blow jobs. This wasn’t their favorite position for it, but it was heady and good, the knees of Steve’s uniform slacks getting dirty on the floor. He touched Bucky’s thigh, gaze flickering up to look at Bucky through his eyelashes.

Bucky groaned at the sight, Steve’s lips wet and stretched obscenely around him. His mouth was too pink and too good. “Not…gonna last,” Bucky’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening minutely in Steve’s hair.

Steve grabbed Bucky’s other hand, threading their fingers together. Bucky’s heart did a little flip in his chest, his fingers squeezing. Steve sucked firmly, seeming to indicate that he’d been completely serious about the protein snack. Bucky shifted against the wall but didn’t thrust his hips forward when he came. His eyes fluttered shut, a delicious moan pulled from his lips as his toes curled in his shoes with a shiver.

When Steve swallowed around Bucky, the motion of his throat provided one last pull that drew out the last of Bucky’s orgasm. Bucky whimpered, his softening erection heavy against Steve’s tongue. Steve wasn’t quite done with him though, licking up his length tenderly, leaving him feeling rubbery all over.

Steve shimmied Bucky’s jeans the rest of the way down, carefully removing one shoe then the other. Bucky was a ragdoll, leaning heavily against the wall and letting Steve divest him of his clothes. “You’re too good at that,” he said when he got his breath back. “It’s dangerous how good you are.”

“One of the reasons you like me so much,” Steve mused.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s it,” Bucky said with a sarcastic huff, recovered enough from his orgasm to roll his eyes.

Steve rocked forward on the balls of his feet, propelling himself up so he could kiss Bucky, slow and firm. Bucky, who was shy about literally nothing, put a hand on Steve’s chin to urge his mouth open, licking his way inside. Steve was blushing by the time they parted, his need obvious in the front of his slacks.

Bucky palmed him through the fabric, naked and languid against the wall, all smirk and coy eyelashes. “What did you say about talking again?” he asked casually.

“It can _wait_ ,” Steve said emphatically, kissing Bucky hard before pulling him toward the stairs. He was busy toeing off his shoes while Bucky laughed, a sound which ranked very close to moans in Steve’s list of Best Bucky Noises. Other notable mentions were the Waking Up Snuffle, Heady Whispers, and Inappropriately Timed Curses.

No one had bothered to turn on the light over the stairs, so they made up it in the dark by memory alone, stealing simmering kisses along the way. Their bedroom on the third floor was a tad on the messy side, only the left side of the bed crinkled from sleep. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Four days,” he said with a happy sigh, kissing the corner of Steve’s lips. “We should go to Coney Island tomorrow.”

Steve hummed in agreement, sliding off his slacks and underwear, the last remnants of clothing now lost. He pressed warm kisses to Bucky’s throat, trailing his lips down to his shoulder.

Bucky’s head fell back in response, making a pleased sound in his throat. Another on the Best Bucky Noises. “I want to go on assignments with you,” he said, and it was so breathy and casual that it took a second for Steve’s lust-addled mind to catch the meaning.

“I thought we weren’t talking about it,” he mumbled against Bucky’s neck.

“I lied. I’m an excellent liar, one of the reasons I’d make a great undercover agent,” he said matter-a-factly.

Steve squeezed Bucky’s rear in response, scoffing. “It’s dirty, Buck. There’s nothing glamorous about going undercover. It’s dangerous and exhausting and thankless.”

“We’d be a team,” he murmured, fingers flexing in Steve’s hair.

The way he said it, quiet and reverent, gave Steve pause. He bit his lower lip. “We’ll talk about it,” he said finally, pulling Bucky to bed.

Bucky could have just sucked Steve off and they’d be ready to sleep for fifteen hours (with some additional snacks), but they both wanted closeness. One dirty romp in the bathroom was only a shadow of what Steve really wanted, and he knew Bucky felt the same. Despite the edge of urgency in Steve’s body, he took it slow. His slicked fingers worked Bucky open with unnecessary care – but Steve liked to see him reduced to a puddle of need on the sheets. He moaned into the pillow, ass up in the air as Steve added a third finger. His other hand slid over Bucky’s lower back, the swell of his rear and finally fondled his balls. Bucky’s hips rocked back and forth on Steve’s hand, his movements a little jerky as his arousal trickled back.

When Steve kissed the back of Bucky’s thigh and slowly withdrew his fingers, Bucky knew to roll over onto his back so he could look up at Steve, who settled between his splayed legs. There was something ironic about missionary position, a stigma of boring predictability that didn’t translate into how their bodies came together. Bucky arched as Steve entered him, his head falling back into the pillow with wet lips parted. Later, when they were finished sleeping like the dead, they might open the drawer with the toys. They might slick each other up in the shower or get creative on the kitchen table. But right now, Bucky’s arms wove around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close as they moved in slow rhythm.

Bucky’s hips undulated in time with Steve’s thrusts, each snap of his hips controlled and with intent. Bucky’s erection was trapped between them, oozing clear fluid as it rubbed between their stomachs. Every breath was shared, noses bumping, lips brushing, damp eyes fluttering open and shut. They didn’t talk this time, letting the moment remain sacred – the quiet moans and sighs, the hitched breaths and whispers – those didn’t count.

The sheets were damp by now, Bucky’s brow glistening with sweat that was starting to darken the roots of his hair. His eyes were glassy in a way that only came from slow, firm sex. Steve wanted to admire him, take his time tracing every curve of muscle, outlining every shade of colorful ink. He mouthed at Bucky’s neck, drawing him closer. His fingers curled loosely around Bucky’s length, stroking him in counter rhythm to the lazy thrusts.

Bucky’s orgasm was not a violent thing when it came for a second time that evening. It crept up slow, making his toes curl into the sheets and his head tip back with ragged breath. He shook against Steve, around him, his moan low and quiet as he spilled over his husband’s hand. When Steve came with a shudder a moment later, he murmured his love into Bucky’s neck before moving up to blindly find his lips for a soft kiss.

They breathed each other’s air for several long minutes before finally rolling over so they could face each other on their sides. “Welcome home,” Bucky whispered, his lips turning up in a sated smile.

Steve just smiled in return, kissing him softly one more time. Each knew they would have to get up soon to eat, but they lay against each other for a while longer.

“You’ll never be happy behind a desk or writing speeding tickets,” Bucky murmured after a long stretch of silence.

“Someone has to—”

“Not you,” Bucky said firmly, shaking his head slightly. He held Steve’s gaze in the half light, staring at him seriously. “So long as there is injustice in the world, you’ll never be happy doing that.”

“There will always be injustice,” Steve reasoned.

“Exactly,” Bucky’s lips quirked up at the corners. His fingers slid through Steve’s hair. “I want to do this with you. It’s my choice, and I’ve decided it’s what I want.”

Steve was frowning, the expression not fading despite several warm kisses from Bucky. “You aren’t trained to do this.”

Bucky just smirked. “I will be trained. You keep being the good cop,” he said, arm wrapping around Steve’s waist. “And I’ll do what needs to be done. We’ll be together.”

Steve hesitated. “I…Okay,” he said finally, defeated.

Bucky was not triumphant in his victory, knowing Steve wasn’t satisfied. Bucky smoothed a thumb over the crease between Steve’s brows. “We’re going to figure this out together. Trust me to be your partner.”

“You are my partner, in everything,” Steve whispered.

“In everything,” Bucky agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your overwhelming support on this story! It's a universe that really captured my imagination, and I'm hoping to add another chapter soon.


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